


The Truth About Toby

by ditsypersephone



Series: The Truth About Toby [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlolly - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Parentlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 21:18:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4580505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ditsypersephone/pseuds/ditsypersephone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Toby is not Molly's cat, he is her son. And Sherlock's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Truth About Toby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MizJoely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/gifts).



> This is inspired by a "very out there" headcanon/prompt given to me by Mizjoely on tumblr. I was intrigued (and challenged) by the idea of Toby actually being Molly and Sherlock's 'secret' child. So what did I do? Only attempted to reimagine the whole series by trying to fit this new headcanon with the show's canon. I hope it works for you.
> 
> Disclaimer: This fanfiction is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended. I'm really just borrowing the characters and making them play house.

_About eight years ago…_

  
Three positive tests are enough for her to believe that she is pregnant. A doctor’s appointment later and there’s no more denying her condition. It takes her two more weeks to make her mind up. This might not have been in her plans just yet, but she is keeping the baby.

  
Now if she could only get hold of the father.

* * *

  
_Six years ago…_

  
Shock does not cover what she feels the moment Sherlock Holmes walks into the lab. Neither does mortification when there isn’t even a flicker of recognition on his face when they’re introduced.

\---

She has to tell him.

She applies the lipstick with a shaky hand, hoping that it will make her feel more confident.

“…I was wondering if you’d like to have coffee?”

“Black, two sugars, please. I’ll be upstairs.”

“Okay.”

\---

DI Dimmock just left in a huff and Sherlock seems in high spirits. Maybe this was her second chance.

“Sherlock, I was wondering…uhm…if you had a minute?”

He narrows his eyes at her and she fights the urge to fidget. This is important. She has to tell him. Maybe this wasn’t the best setting but time to be bold, Molly Hooper.

She hands him her mobile phone, the screen displaying a photo taken just this morning – a toddler, smiling happily at the camera.

“This is my son. And yours.”

He hands back the phone and walks away.

“Okay.”

\---

She’s walking home from a nice picnic in the park, her little boy sleeping soundly in the pushchair, when a black car pulls up. A nicely dressed woman asks her to get in. Molly politely tells her to piss off and hurries away.

At nine o’clock that night, her doorbell buzzes and she’s about to murder whoever it is if they wake up her child.

“My name is Mycroft Holmes. I believe you’re the mother of my nephew.”

\---

“Molly, I need to you run tests on these samples.”

“My shift’s over.”

“You can stay, can’t you?”

She gives him a pointed look, “I have to get home to Toby.”

The older man (James? John?), the one who has become Sherlock’s new assistant, asks from the other side of the counter, “Who’s Toby?”

“Her cat,” Sherlock replies.

Molly thinks that maybe she should take Mycroft Holmes’ warning to heart - “ _He wouldn't be a good father.”_

_\---_

Jim is nice and he’s not put off by her having a child - she’d heard all kinds of horror stories from single mothers trying to date. So she decides to give it a chance.

And because her bruised little ego needs a little soothing, she finds herself talking to Sherlock about it. Oh she feels like a gauche teenager but he’s hurt her and she can’t help herself.

“Domestic bliss must suit you.”

She lashes out.

\---

She learns about it from Lestrade. She gives her statement – there’s not much she has to tell, really. She goes home to cuddle her son.

He shows up, like his brother, in the middle of the night.

“He looks just like you,” he says, staring at his son, who stares curiously back.

“Everyone says that.”

“That’s a good thing. Otherwise it would’ve been him instead of John.”

The thought makes her feel cold and helpless.

\---

She’s not stupid. She understands his argument. There is nothing in the world she wouldn’t do to keep her child from harm. However, she also questions how their situation is any different from other parents?

Of course there are dangers, there are always threats. But should they live in fear of things that may or may not happen? Should they deny her son the chance to know his father because Sherlock thinks it’s safer this way? It’s not like she’s asking him to make a public announcement.

Or is this just an excuse, the kinder lie to the harsher truth – that Sherlock Holmes wants nothing to do with his own child?

“I’d rather you tell me if you don’t care-“

“It’s not because I don’t care.”

There is hope in those words.

\---

Although hope dies last, it can be dimmed until it’s just a small flame, no longer enough to brighten one’s heart.

If he recognises the dress, he doesn’t let on. In fact, for someone so observant, he’s spectacularly oblivious sometimes to the things right in front of him.

“You always say such horrible things. Every time. Always. Always.”

She wonders if he ever opened the gift, seen the other card inside. The childish scribble of a cat as an elf.

Wonders if she had another motive to stay in Sherlock’s life - other than to make sure her son would get a chance to know his father.

Why else would she feel this jealous of a dead woman?

\---

She feels blessed to have all these good things in her life. Her precious baby boy. Her mother and her sister. Her friends. A job that allows her to support her child and fulfills her professionally.

She does not need Sherlock Holmes. She really, really, really doesn’t. She does not need that kind of heartbreak.

And yet, she is willing to offer whatever he needs from her.

* * *

 

_Two years ago…_

Like a spectre, he appears behind her, making her jump.

“Can I meet him?”

She nods, overcome with joy.

\---

“Hello Toby, I’m Sherlock.”

“Hewo, Shewock.”

\---

Tom is nice. Tom is not a criminal mastermind - Sherlock hasn’t mentioned anything, so she feels reassured. Tom has a dog and Toby likes going on walks with him.

Toby also enjoys going to see his friend, Sherlock.

“He’s a lovely boy,” Mary says.

“Sherlock thought he was a cat,” John says.

“To be fair, we do have a cat,” she says.

\---

“Urinating in wardrobes, bad.”

This is the only time she directly references that night they met. He’d been high. She’d been less than sober. His friend, Victor, had desecrated her then flatmate’s clothes with his fluids.

\---

It’s funny how Toby doesn’t miss Tom one bit, but keeps asking her when he can go see Sherlock.

She wonders too and worries because it’s been a while since he’s been in touch.

And then he shows up in her lab, bloodstream full of drugs.

And then later in hospital, bullet through the chest.

And she wonders why she has given her heart to someone who keeps breaking hers. And resolves that he will never get the chance to break their son’s heart.

\---

DID HE LIKE THE GIFT? - SH

YES. THANK YOU. - Molly

I'M GLAD. - SH

She looks at her son, fully absorbed with the Lego set Sherlock has given him for Christmas, and the expression on his face is a mirror-image of his father's when he's working out a puzzle.

\---

She learns about his exile from Lestrade. She tries not to care that he never said goodbye. She fails, spectacularly.

But then someone else demands her attention. A nightmare come to life.

She drops everything in her haste to make sure that Toby is safe.

.

.

.

.

.

“A hoax?”

“Yes.”

“How? Why?”

“Big Brother to the rescue. A second chance.”

“For what?”

“Everything.”

* * *

 

_Yesterday..._

“Toby?”

“Yes, Daddy?”

“It’s bed time.”

“Awwwww…noooo…”

“Yes it is.”

“But I want to stay up and experiment with you.”

“We can do that in the morning.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

\---

_Today..._

“Two lines for yes, one for no.”

“And?”

“It’s not the flu.”

“Are you happy?”

“Very. Are you?”

He kisses her with all the love he’s no longer afraid of showing.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Kudos and comments are always appreciated. :)
> 
> A couple of related one-shots are in the works and will be posted soon...ish.


End file.
